


Blue Rhapsody

by Jaspercindercity



Series: Rhapsody in Blue [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Anorexia, Bisexuality, Child Abuse, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorders, F/M, Gay Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Smoking, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Underage Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-10-09 19:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaspercindercity/pseuds/Jaspercindercity
Summary: ...To which Nathan is left no choice: he kisses her. Deeply, a resounding yes, a fucking hell yeah, if there ever was. “Max,” Nathan growls, this time not caring to keep his obvious hunger from leaking into his voice.“I want to fuck you.”An anthology of Nathan Prescott's sexual escapades and the people he strings along.





	1. Here Comes the Sun (Caulscott)

**Author's Note:**

> It's the start of an era, two years too late. I've finally decided to write smut. Ah, it was only a matter of time anyways.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Max’s gasp leaves her breathless, then it punches the air out of Nathan’s lungs. “Nathan I,” Max trails off as Nathan suckles a spot, above her nape, but underneath her ear.
> 
> “What is it,” Nathan nearly growls. He bites his tongue just in time so that it comes out as a guttural demand. He silently sighs, as he prepares to roll off Max. Too much for one evening, but Nathan knows better to push this. He of all people knows the importance the boundaries, and how impossible it was to willingly bring them down after they’d been shattered.
> 
> “I want to be with you.”
> 
> ...What?

Max is beautiful.

Afternoon sunlight lazily falls through his dorm room window, bathing his Max in a golden glow. Baby blue isn’t the only color of her eyes. The sunlight reveals hidden shades, coaxes out glints of aquamarine and indigo. Has he ever seen her so clearly?

“You’re beautiful, too.” Nathan nearly recoils at her statement. The words weren’t an easy feat, Nathan could see the pink dusting coagulating on her china pale cheeks.

Nathan is…

Angry. One time, he catches Warren’s eyes linger on Max after she crashes into him in the hallway. Pens and pencils go flying and Max bends down to pick them up. Warren’s eyes follow the valley of her breasts, he tries to look down Max’s shirt, Nathan could just tell. The sickly satisfying _crunch_ of his knuckles against Warren’s jaw is like the drag of a newly-lit cigarette and it leaves Max in tears.

Destructive. Sometimes a punch isn’t enough to quell Nathan’s rage. He’s a hurricane, culling heavy winds, wrecking everything in his vicinity. _Smack,_ his palm strikes the scratched oak surface of a classroom desk. _Crash,_ when he flings the desk at a window; glass is everywhere, when he steps in it, the soles of his shoes turn red. Madsen and Wells, wrestling him to the ground like a runaway asylum patient.

Lost. Is it Tuesday or Friday? Nathan has lost all sense of time since he met Max. He could only distinguish the years between two chapters: Life With Max and Life Without. Oddly enough, he doesn’t mind this temporal conundrum. He’d only felt this way before, once, after lighting up a particularly potent blunt that Frank had promised would “blow his fucking mind”. It did that, and then some, leaving Nathan glued to the ceiling. He much prefers the mind-numbing satiety of Max’s warm embrace.

Nathan is many things, but he is not beautiful. Even so, Max insists:

“You’re beautiful, Nathan. You’re beauti- mmph!” He cuts her off with an open-mouthed kiss. She’s good to him, too good to him. She’s an angel led astray, a paragon of virtue, a, a...

 _“Nathan_ ,” she whispers between kisses. His thumbs dig into her frail hips. Just the hem of her panties peeks out from underneath her fuzzy shorts. purple.

His fingers aren’t content simply trailing down her hips. They slip underneath her underwear, but he still has the sense to only trace her hip bone. Of all people, Max wouldn’t dare venture past some heavy petting.

“More,” Max whines. She tilts her hips just so they grind against Nathan’s too tight pants. _Ok, fuck, I was wrong._

Cautiously, Nathan picks at the hem of Max’s shorts. The elastic waistband is taut where he pulls at the fabric. He pushes her shorts past her thighs, and Max enthusiastically kicks them off. Maybe they land on her desk, maybe they’re crumpled on the floor. Nathan sure as hell doesn’t care and judging by the way Max pulls him flush to her hips, she is similarly unconcerned.

Thin. Flimsy, really. Although the lilac cotton is opaque enough to cover her private parts, the outlines of her labia leave nothing to the imagination.

 _It’s cool. It’s just underwear, Nathan. Nothing sexy here._ What a load of _crap._ When Max shifts her hips just right, Nathan can feel her throbbing against his black jeans.

“My shirt,” Max whispers.

“What about it?” Nathan asks. _Jane Doe,_ the stark outline of a startled deer, it is both the least and most Max thing Max owned. Although she startled- and startled often, especially now, as Nathan bit into her neck- she was also bold, threading her slender fingers into his hair.

“Take it off?” Max asks. “Please?” she amends. Nathan chuckles against her nape. Trust Max to mind her manners, even now.

“Of course,” Nathan replied, happy to oblige. His fingers tug her shirt, the inside of her pink shirt a veil, and suddenly Max is topless.

 _“They match,”_ is the first thing Nathan notices. Perhaps not the same shade, but dark enough to be considered purple, her bra borders on maroon. _“She’s beautiful,”_ Nathan swallows. She’s cold; Max shivers. Nathan can see goose pimples rising on her arms, her legs, Nathan wants to rub his hands all over her because he feels hot, hot, hot.

“I want to hold you,” Nathan swallows.

“I’d like that,” Max smiles, but it’s soft. He can barely make out the poke of her two front teeth, but he can see the flush of her cheeks. It catapults his heart into his throat, and Nathan doesn’t realize he’s pulling her into his arms until he can feel the flush of her torso.

Holding Max has always grounded Nathan in a way the whale sounds couldn’t. He suspects it has something to do with her scent: sweat and powdery deodorant and wildflowers after rain.

It also brings him eye level to her bra. Which again, _“It matches.”_ Nathan tries to concentrate on the crook of her shoulder rather than her bra strap, but Nathan’s never been any good at multitasking.

 _“Stop it. Stop overthinking it. It could be a coincidence.”_ Max sighs as Nathan cups her through her bra. Barely perceptible, the peak under Max’s bra stiffens when Nathan skims his thumb around it. _“A very, very, sexy coincidence.”_

 _“It’s not like all women who wear matching underwear expect to get laid, Nathan”_ he chastises himself. Victoria regularly color-coded her clothes- _all her clothes,_ she had delightfully cackled as Nathan groaned and muffled his ears with one of her many intricate throw pillows. Now all he can do is frantically try to remember Victoria’s matter of fact tone; if he could time travel, he would rip the throw pillow off his stupid past self and wallop him with it.

 _“Pay attention,”_ Victoria’s voice snaps, and Nathan suddenly remembers the very alluring, half-naked girl under him. Has he been slobbering over her shoulder for the last five minutes? _Stop spacing out,_ Nathan reminds himself. He hikes his lips past her shoulder and moves to her throat, where he presses some open-mouthed kisses.

While he understood _why_ he was so taken with Max, he could never understand what about Max made him lose his train of thought, checking out of conscience with the frequency of a flickering light bulb. His sex life pre-Max, while a tad devoid of any sentimentality, was passionate enough to make him forget everything but that high he chased with reckless abandon (and his partner’s of course. Nathan refuses to be a shitty one-pump thrust horror story echoed from the disappointed tales from Victoria, Taylor, etc). Still, his sex was ok, and then it was good. If not for the quality, the quantity provided a well enough distraction for Nathan to remain more or less content.

Sex with Max would be a new, truthfully told, completely uncharted territory for them. Technically it would be _more_ new to her than him, but Nathan feels strangely uncertain, finds himself second guessing her breathy moans.

If Max’s gasp leaves her breathless, then it punches the air out of Nathan’s lungs. “Nathan I,” Max trails off as Nathan suckles a spot, above her nape, but underneath her ear.

“What is it,” Nathan nearly growls. He bites his tongue just in time so that it comes out as a guttural demand. He silently sighs, as he prepares to roll off Max. Too much for one evening, but Nathan knows better to push this. He of all people knows the importance the boundaries, and how impossible it was to willingly bring them down after they’d been shattered.

“I want to be with you.”

_...What?_

Nathan stares at her blankly. He’d never admit this, but he swears that his jaw unhinged like some giant anaconda before devouring a baby deer (the imagery doesn’t escape his notice).

_Is this...is this real?_

Unbeknownst to Nathan’s mental incapacity (error 404: Nathan not processing), Max continues to ramble. “I want my first time to be with you, Nathan. Not just because it’s better than losing it to some random stranger, but because it’s you and if it’s you then it’s special…”

_Holy shit. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT, THIS IS HAPPENING._

Max grows wary under Nathan’s silence. She’s a deer, after all, skittish to the first sign of danger. “Unless you don’t want to of course, because I totally understand…”

To which Nathan is left no choice: he kisses her. Deeply, a resounding yes, a fucking _hell yeah,_ if there ever was. “Max,” Nathan growls, this time not caring to keep his obvious hunger from leaking into his voice.

“I want to fuck you.”

Max blushes to her roots, and Nathan of course finds it adorable. “I’d like that,” Max repeats, in a small voice.

Nathan doesn’t know how he’s managed to live without her for so long, how his hands haven’t held her like this. _She’s like a butterfly,_ Nathan discovers when he cups her through her panties. She flutters at his touch, and yet Nathan feels that she’s warm and _oh,_ wet too.

He brings his wet fingers to his mouth, and Max looks at him puzzled, a mix of flustered and frustrated. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, making sure to run his tongue over each digit, properly soaking them so that when he touches her again, _there,_ she gasps as his wet fingers trace her lips. His middle and index fingers brush past her lips and curl inside her soft walls.

“Oh,” Max gasps. “Oh, Nathan.” He curls his fingers and slowly pushes them a little deeper. “That feels…”

“Good?” Nathan asks.

She nods. Nathan curls his finger inwards, brushing against her inner walls. They clamp against his fingers so tight that Nathan’s mind goes numb. He can only imagine what she would feel like around his cock and Nathan has done much, _much_ imagining.

Speaking of his cock, or rather, _not_ speaking of his cock, Nathan has been nothing but a gentleman this evening, and his much-neglected erection is proof as much. But what with Max moaning around his fingers and her panties pushed out of the way (Nathan has to rectify that) Nathan can’t help but feel a little left out.

His hard-on is obvious, even Max must know what’s poking against her thigh, but Nathan tries to focus on Max’s heavy breathing, the way she arches into his touch. Her underwear is a start.

He slides down the demure lilac cotton and throws it over his shoulder. She is trimmed, a neat tuft of soft, brown hair that makes Nathan smirk. She sits up.

“Nathan!” Max squeaks. Instinctively, she presses her thighs closed, trapping Nathan against her bare sex.

“So beautiful.” Nathan’s voice is thick with want. It makes him hungry, makes him reach for the clasps of her bra and throw it, along with the rest of her clothes which are huddled together in some forgotten corner.

Nathan manages to catch her hands before they cross over her chest. “Don’t,” he says, bordering on a command. Threading their fingers together, Max lets her hands fall to her sides.

“Okay,” she says. Pink as peonies, Nathan wants to kiss her blush, blooming across her cheeks. Nathan is enchanted. Her breasts are small yet oddly endearing like the rest of Max. He likes the way they stiffen in the cold, exposed air; he likes the way her nipples stand proud and pert; but he likes best the way they feel in his mouth when he outlines the grooves with his tongue.

“Nathan, Nathan!” Max moans when Nathan extends his ministrations to the underside of her breasts. “Ah!” she cries out when he gently bites her nipple. She muffles her mouth with her hand, the tempo of her pleasure increasing.

“Just...like that,” Max moans when Nathan alternates between biting to suck a hickey next to her nipple. “Mmm,” a moan slips out despite herself. Max’s world compresses into itself until her only focal point is Nathan’s mouth.

A hint of wetness, Max knows she’s wet, dripping wet for Nathan. “Nathan” she whispers, tugging his hair. When he doesn’t respond, she tugs his hair with more urgency.

“What is it?” Nathan’s voice is so husky with want, Max almost doesn’t realize he’s spoken until he looks at her.

“My dresser,” she says. “Open my dresser.” She’s blushing so hard Nathan can help but wonder what’s in her side drawer. Hailed as the one secretive and forbidden spot in a person’s domicile, Nathan sharply inhaled as wondered what was in Max’s bedside. Furry handcuffs? A silk binding?

To his relief, Nathan pulls out a stack on condoms and a small bottle of lotion. _Why am_ **_I_ ** _blushing?_ Ok, they’re really doing this. It’s one thing to be making out and promising certain privileges and taking the Lord's name in vain and whatnot, it’s entirely of a different plane to be hit with the prospects of birth control and commitment, words that aren’t entirely unpalatable, but takes more than one swallow for Nathan to thoroughly digest.

“Max, are you sure?” If they’re both going to take the plunge, Nathan will be damned that they dive without safety vests.

She exhales. Gently, she places her hand on his face, stroking the bump of his sharp cheekbone. She wants to see his tender eyes hooded with pleasure, his mild voice groaning before shushing him with hungry kisses.

“Yes,” she wants to tell him all the ways she wants him to herself. Instead, she settles with a warm smile. “I want you, Nathan.”

Her inviting smile draws Nathan closer, he wants to be closer, closer still. “Whatever you want,” Nathan swears. If she wanted him, he could give all of himself, all he had to her. But when Max’s wandering hands try to pull his shirt (full-sleeved. Stained from Mrs. Grant’s chemistry class), he freezes. The shirt is halfway up his torso when he yanks her hands off.

“Oh god,” Nathan mumbles. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Max. I don’t what got into me, I just panicked, I...I,” his mouth flaps faster than a hummingbird. _Whatever you want,_ his conscience sneers. _So much for that._

To which Max’s hands snake around his thin waist and pull him into a hug. “It’s okay,” she reassures when she kisses the top of his head. “It’s alright”.

Startled, confused, still turned on, Nathan is a flurry of emotions, but mostly he feels safe in Max’s arms. “Do you still want to do this?” Max asks.

Nathan nods. “Yeah, I’m good.” He shrinks back from Max’s embrace, but only to grab the condoms from the edge of the bed. Tearing the condom with his teeth, the silver wrapper shines despite his dorm room’s meager sunlight.

Max ghosts her hands on his crotch. Only when Nathan nods, does she unzip his pants, reach through his boxers, and pull out his hardened cock. Nathan’s vaguely impressed at how long he’s been able to restrain himself.

“Oh fuck,” Nathan hisses when her small hands' stroke the tip of his leaking cock. He’s dripping with precum, it runs down his shaft, trickling down his balls. _Oh god, oh fuck…._

Rolling the latex down his erection, Nathan grunts where the condom fits smug on his skin. The tightly wound string of his patience snaps, and in a sudden burst of masculine desire, Nathan pushes Max to the bed.

Lining their hips up, Nathan’s mind goes blank as he aligns his cock against her. _Well, fuck_ is the last thing Nathan registers when the head briefly dips into her wetness.

“Slow,” Max pleads when Nathan thrusts. Nathan’s face scrunches up in effort. He wants to be slow, he wants to pin Max against his mattress and fuck her into next year. He’s halfway inside when Max cries out.

Despite her cry, Nathan can’t find it in him to pause. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises as he kisses her throat. When Max nods, he sinks the rest of the way deeper until he can feel himself all the way inside her.

 _Tight,_ Nathan observes. _So tight._ Her heat is pulsing all around him, and Nathan throws back his head and groans.

“Full,” Max moans. “Nathan, I’m so full.” She lets a whimper that’s so endearing Nathan has to kiss her. Her hands clutch his t-shirt, digging into his back. He feels the prickle of nails against cotton, and he wants more of it.

Shallow as to not hurt her, Nathan gives an experimental thrust which leaves Max gasping. “Oh, Nathan!” He does it again and he’s rewarded with a breathy moan.

“Do that again, Nathan.” And so he does. With every staccato thrust, Max gasps and runs her nails down his back. “God,” he moans when Max manages to bring her hips up to meet his thrusts.

Her flowery whimpers, her startled _ahs,_ and _Nathans!_ Send Nathan into a frenzy. _So beautiful._ Pressing a kiss against her breasts, he bites her nipple again, relishes the crack in her voice.

“Everywhere,” Max whines. “You’re everywhere, Nathan.” On her chest, kissing her stomach, inside of her; she has never felt so wholly consumed. Belonging to Nathan, her body melds to his hands.

“More,” Max mewls. He’s never heard her so debauched, her voice begging with pleasure. “Please. I need…”

Nathan understands. He sneaks a hand down to where they’re joined and searches for that one spot that leaves her in tears. _Near the top,_ his fingers scramble for purchase. Judging by her frantic moans, he’s close, _little to the left,_ and _there!_

“Nathan!” Max shrieks when he rubs her clit. Circling the bundle of nerves, he brushes against her clit just so with his knuckle. “God, Nathan!” Max feels the curve of his smirk pressed into her clavicle. She grabs him by the chin, and kisses him soundly, wiping that smug smirk off his face. Halfway into the kiss, Nathan manages to thrust particularly deep while suddenly rubbing her with the pad of his thumb. He breaks off the kiss to hear her moan, high and tinged with adoration: “Nathannn.”

Unexpectedly so, Max arches her back, sinking Nathan a few inches deeper. “Fuck, Max.” Now Nathan finds himself groaning.

 _Since when…_ He was thrusting deep inside her, hurried, that familiar reckless abandon. She’s swallowing him to the hilt, gripping his cock tightly.

Frantically rubbing her clit with his fingers, Nathan finds himself chasing that high with Max. She clenches for the onslaught of release, squeezing Nathan tighter.

“Close,” she mewls. Her face is streaked with tears, Nathan wants to lick the salt off her cheeks. “So close,” she promises. Holy words, he hangs onto her broken whimpers as he strokes her. He’s thrusting inside her with such reckless speed, his cock barely pulls out of her. Nathan resigns to his short, staccato thrust.

The smell of her skin, her rapturous cries, nails scratching his back, Max arches her back, her breasts sandwiched between his chest, and cums, a sweet, broken “ _Nathan”._ He follows shortly behind, gasping into the crook of her neck while he fills the condom.

“Max,” he whispers in awe. Her blush spreads to the slope of her neck and she gasps, still riding out her high. She’s clenched around him tightly, her breaths come out in short, ragged gasps.

Finally collapsing, Max lets out a shaky cry as she falls back on the bed. “Mmm,” she murmurs. He kisses her cheek and Max quietly whispers his name. “Beautiful,” he promises to her. “So damn beautiful.”

“Beautiful,” she responds, tapping his chest. “You,” she argues. And Nathan has to laugh at her stubbornness, placates her pout with the promise of kisses and forever.

He could never think of the right thing to say after it was all over so he settles on this:

“I love you,” he vows. “Max, I love you.” When she says “I love you, too”, Nathan watches for the telltale crinkle of her eyes. Nathan knows she sees him, all of him, anger and hatred, need and desire, has she ever seen him so clearly?

“Beautiful,” the words alien in Nathan’s ears. “Beautiful,” she reassures. Perhaps he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how fluffy. In all seriousness, I tried to make Nathan and Max's first time as in character as possible. It's implied that they're in a relationship at this point, probably for half a year or so. 
> 
> There were some details that were important to me. 
> 
> 1) Nathan keeping his shirt on: I've explored this in my sister fic "By Way of the Blue Butterfly", but Nathan has some serious body issues. However, strangely enough, I think he'd be ok with getting Naked with a stranger for a one night stand but would remain oddly modest in front of his loved ones.
> 
> 2) Birth control: this one speaks for itself, but please practice safe sex. That being said, there will be future chapters in which characters don't use proper birth control, this is a fictional work and therefore carries no consequence. Life does, unfortunately.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. PLEASE COMMENT AND REVIEW, I DON"T BITE.
> 
> NOW ACCEPTING REQUESTS!


	2. Gone is the Way You Look at Me (Pricescott)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back for more guys! It's been a hell of a job writing this, but the thing about Pricescott is that when I get struck with inspiration, it's just BAM! And then I'm unavailable for the next three days. Anyways, onward with the story!

“You think you knew Rachel? Huh?”

_ Their _ posters are in tatters. To her regret, he’s shredded her favorite one: a 12 x 20 vertical shot emphasizing the recoiled dragon tattoo that twisted around Rachel’s calf. She had touched that dragon before, felt the ardor and power buried beneath her skin. And now it’s all confetti, whatever scraps she can still distinguish are scattered by the wind. 

“Rachel didn’t want anything to do with your punkass!” he sneers. “She only hung out with you because you constantly kissed her ass.” He rips another poster off the wall: Rachel playing with Pompidou, his wet snout pressed against her cheek. “You meant nothing to her, you were just her  _ bitch!” _

Knicked cigarettes and booze, skunk weed snuck from behind Frank’s back, Chloe lived for the way Rachel’s blue eyes lit up when she produced her stash. She felt like a magician, pulling coins behind Rachel’s ear, her look of reverent awe and wonder. 

_ “No way, Chloe!”  _ Was it pathetic that she inhaled the strawberry scent of Rachel’s body wash whenever Rachel pulled her in for a hug?  _ “You’re a fucking god!” _

She wasn’t a god though, and if she was, she was a powerless one. For what was a god to Rachel’s free spirit? One day it was heated kisses in her jeep, dreams of LA and Paris and Iceland, the next, she was gone, a Rachel shaped hole in her heart.

So what if she only hung out with Chloe for her stash? So what if Rachel would smile at Frank when she thought Chloe wasn’t looking? She was the magician, Rachel was the audience. When her act had lost its thrill, Rachel left to find something new and exciting. But whatever they had had,  _ it was magic.  _

“So what?” she finds herself shaking. “SO WHAT?” She reaches for another poster: Rachel’s feet propped on her dashboard, lazily twirling a joint between her thumb and index finger. She rips Rachel’s legs off, crumbles them into a paper ball. Next is her head,  _ swish,  _ the sound of her skull breaking off her delicate neck. It feels so fucking good to rip Rachel’s torso in two, the creased halves of her jagged, heart. 

“What Rachel and I had was magic.” This time it’s her turn to sneer. “We saw the way you used to trail her at school like a kicked puppy. God, you were so fucking annoying.” Her blue hair is practically incandescent, she’s on fire, and she wants to burn this whole fucking town to the ground.

“Do you know what we called you?” She laughs, it’s a cruel giggle.  _ “Rottweiler.” _

His eyes light up in recognition. Although they’re not the same shade of blue, Chloe recognizes the heated flare of his eyes, so much like Rachel, it makes her chest ache. 

“Shut the fuck up” his spits out.  _ “He really is a Rottweiler,”  _ she thinks. His face is snarled, a dog about to bite. “Shut. Up.” 

“Whatever you say,  _ rott.”  _

It’s the proverbial equivalent of all hell breaking loose. Bricks dig into her back, bursts of pain at the back of her skull where he’s got her pinned to the wall. Purple cruises from his fingers digging into her shoulder, his torso pressed against her tightly, his knee between the apex of her legs.  _ Fuck. _

“You don’t know who the  _ fuck  _ I am, or who you’re messing around with!” Red, his lips are the furious crimson of his varsity jacket, the smeared rouge of a woman’s mouth. She bites her lips to keep from, from doing  _ something,  _ she hasn’t figured out her course of action yet. Darting from between these red lips is his tongue, a flash of pink.

“Not so tough without Rachel, huh?” He sneers like a shark who’s tasted blood.

_ Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!  _ It catches her off guard at first, like a vintage engine coming to life, the hair on her arm paralyzed with static. How long has it been since this newfound passion has coursed through her veins?

_ “Her eyes are so blue,”  _ Nathan swallows.  _ “They’re unreal.”  _ Nathan is captivated in that split second, slackening his grip in favor of marveling at how her ferocity illuminates this shithole of a hideout. 

She rips his arm off her shoulder so fast, he doesn’t register the slam of her knee into his stomach until he’s doubled over, coughing. 

For the first time in months, Chloe feels something. At the time, she hadn’t realized the emptiness that was consuming her since Rachel’s disappearance. When her emotions had finally abandoned her, she resigned to the ensuing numbness with little more than a sigh. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t cried for Rachel, hadn’t mourned her disappearance. When everything leaves you, it’s only inevitable that you find yourself with nothing to live for. 

But  _ this,  _ this anger is delicious. It’s not good enough that Nathan is doubled over, no she’s just getting started. She wants to bit his lips until she can taste blood, yank his hair out of his skull, and leave him moaning all the while.

“Get up,” she says. When he’s still on the floor a second later, venom leaks into her voice. “Get up,” she commands.

“Eat shit,” Nathan spits out. Faced with no choice, she yanks him up by his dark brown hair.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Nathan yelps. She yanks his head back, “You stupid cunt!”, Nathan curses, exposing the thin column of his neck. “You-” he gasps as her teeth sink into his neck. Nipping the skin hard enough to draw a thin stream of blood, she relishes the iron filling her mouth, pale skin blossoming into brilliant hues of purple and red.

_ “Oh god,”  _ Nathan praises.  _ “This.”  _ When he yelps at the pain, she silences him with the burning pinch of her incisors. A hickey dots his neck, and she presses past his neck, down to the jut of his collar bone so as to leave more. 

Tooth against bone, which is more malleable?  _ “Bone,”  _ Nathan decides as she bits into the bone so hard, he swears there are teeth marks in his marrow. 

“You’re so skinny,” Chloe comments. “Like a fucking twink,” she smirks. 

Pills, pills for everything, glorious white little pills that cut his appetite like a wire, and left him high enough to enjoy the emptiness. Her words sing praises to Nathan’s ear,  _ “You’re so skinny,” “so skinny,” “SKINNY”.  _ Tainted with her hatred, her taunts are holy words, in her hatred lies his most covetous truth. 

How does he say Thank You? “Speak for yourself,  _ dike.”  _ Shamelessly gleeful, when she slams him against the brick wall, the smirk etches into his face. 

“What did you say, asshole?” she demands. “You want to repeat that?” He feels like a newly popped bag of chips, the air punched out of his lungs. It leaves him dizzy and breathless (and a little nauseous, if he were to admit) in the best way possible.

“Are you deaf  _ and  _ dumb?” Nathan taunts. The pad of her thumb brushes the hollow of his neck, he wonders if she’s entertaining the possibility of choking him.

He fantasized his death the way other people dreamt of winning the lottery. He imagined stabbing his jugular with his salad fork at one too many dreary dinners chez Prescott. Debated swerving the steering wheel of his jeep on his morning commute to Blackwell, crashing into the godforsaken copper statue in the school courtyard.  His favorite used to be jumping from the lighthouse, one smooth plunge, and then his body breaking on impact when he hits the cold Pacific. No painfully prolonged funeral and no one to prop his body up like a doll in a glass case.

Now, with her long, pianist fingers caressing the sinew of his throat, he thinks he’s found a new favorite. “Don’t you  _ ever _ call me that again.” She didn’t yell or scream, simply asserting over him like a general commanding his troops to fall on their own swords. 

Rigid and obstinately implacable, her grip on his throat only seemed to tighten despite his desperate wheezes. Radiant blue eyes, her animal strength, hot breath tickling his ear,  _ oh yeah,  _ Nathan thought.  _ Definitely my new favorite. _

Only when he finally coughed, a wet, ugly sound, had she wrenched her hands free from his throat as if burned. For a long moment, she said nothing and looked at her hands, opening and closing her fists as if to check they were her own. 

_ “Oh god,”  _ Nathan panicked.  _ “She hates me. She thinks I’m a freak. She’s going to tell Justin who’s going to tell Trevor who’s going to tell Dana who’s going to tell Juliet who’s going to tell the entire fucking school and then the entire town is going to think I’m some Fifty Shades shithead and I’ll have to move and change my name to something even whiter and blander than Nathan and-” _

“Get on your knees.” It’s so quiet- and careless, too, like some dull commentary on the weather- that Nathan scarcely notices. “On. Your. Knees.” He feels like some mildly retarded school kid that’s just been caught wanking under a desk. Nevertheless, he gets on his knees. Moist from yesterday’s storm, the soil is damp and soft against his black jeans. 

He waits for the command that doesn’t come. Locking his gaze with hers, she unbuttons her jeans before forgoing the zipper entirely and pulling her pants-  _ and underwear-  _ off. She kicks off her boots, he flinches when one of the studded combats almost clips him in the ear. 

Her pubic hair is thoroughly trimmed save for a lightning strip that protrudes from her mound, as jagged and angry as the rest of her. Nathan swallows.  _ Sexy, yes, want,  _ it appears that he’s temporarily lost his ability to string together a coherent sentence. Perhaps permanently, judging by how long he can only marvel at her imposing figure.

Spreading her lips, Nathan watches as she exposes herself to the bright afternoon sun. She’s shameless in her taking, the way she wrings pleasure out of herself as she furiously rubs her clitoris and coaxes out her moans.  _ She’s like a magician,  _ Nathan observes with rapture. She pulls her pleasure out of thin air like... _ like pulling a coin behind his ear.  _

Her audience is captivated. He bites his lip when her fingers disappear inside her. Where have they gone? Will they ever come back? When her fingers reappear moments later, totally slick, her audience is starstruck. 

Nathan wants to touch her so badly, but he’s afraid she’ll disappear, that this will all disappear and he’ll find himself alone, waking in a cold bed with stale, sweaty sheets. He can’t move, so she moves for him. Prostrating herself inches away from his face, she commands him, “Eat up,” she smirks,  _ “Rott”. _

He doesn’t realize that he’s starved, salivating in anticipation, until he inhales her slightly pungent scent. All this time, Nathan has been starved, starved for the food he could not swallow, for the love he never got, and the desire, aching, burning, desire that left him insatiable. 

_ Tangy.  _ She is the not quite ripe strawberry that he picked during a class trip to a farm. Ms. Altman, his first-grade teacher, had sternly warned the class not to touch the fruit which could be riddled with insects or pesticides or worse; yet when he saw, the tender bud, a blooming red that looked seconds away from bursting, his hands already plucked the strawberry from its green stem. Sour, with saccharine hinting on his tongue, he catches the juices running his chin with his pinky and laps them off his sticky fingers.

The forbidden fruit is always the most exquisite- she doesn’t just moan, she gasps for dear life and shoves his face against her sex. Well, that’s fine by him, he eagerly laps up her wetness. Ten crescent moons, one of her nails actually breaks off in his hair she grips onto his skull for dear life. He wants to lick further, get to her core, her most private part.

When his tongue thrusts into her walls, she grunts. “FUCk!” She always says the sweetest things, “Fuck, Nathan, Fuck!” She wriggles around his tongue and tries to stick his tongue even deeper. “Fuck, yeah, keep doing that.”

Her taste is the strongest there, deep inside her, in a far off place he thinks,  _ no wonder they call it eating out.  _ It’s so much better than a few quick licks and a close-mouthed kiss, she’s quivering around him, the smell and taste of her fill him up, consumes him entirely until he’s melding to her touch. “Fuck, I’m going to cum,” she pants.

Pulling his tongue out, he kisses upward, saving the best part for last. She crashes before she hits that high, leaving her furious and frustrated. “The fuck? I didn’t tell you to fucking stop, Prescott.”  _ Prescott.  _ She must be pissed, then. Oh well, she’ll understand soon enough, Nathan sighs. 

Although patience is not his specialty, Nathan feels extremely satisfied, when he manages to save the best part for last. He kisses his way up, hiking his lips to her clit. Teasingly stroking it with his tongue, Chloe bats him away. “Just get on with it!” Patience is not her specialty, either.

Her wish is his command, he sucks her clit into his mouth and just keeps sucking that tiny bud, while Chloe’s moans crescendo. “FUCK, I’m going to cum!” Increasing with fervor, her moans and grunts finally hit their forte as she spasms and melts on his mouth. Rippling around his mouth, he never ceases to keep suck her clit while she rides out her sweet high. “Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck…”

Immediately, she shoves him off her.  _ Overly sensitive,  _ Nathan notes. “That’s enough,” she decides. Before Nathan can take one last glance, she pulls her pants up in one fluid motion and grabs her boots. 

“Find someone to take care of that, Prescott”. Tilting her chin at the tent in his pants, she smirks as she slips her boots on. “Because I sure as hell have got better things to do.”

“Fuck off, then,” Nathan shoots. Ah, so it’s back to this again. Just as fast as their spell is cast, it’s broken leaving only Nathan, and his painfully hard erection in this crumbling shithole.

“See ya, fuckface,” she calls out.  _ Fuckface,  _ he ruminates.  _ Clever.  _ He likes the way it rolls off his tongue, still sweet with the taste of her. He dares not even swallow, shoving his hands into the cramped quarters of his black jeans. 

Dry and rough, he furiously rubs his cock which burns from the delicious friction. A few beads of precum leak from his slit which makes for a meager lube. It’s too dry, Nathan realizes, but he’s too horny to give a shit. 

Savoring the last remnants of her taste, he’s struck with inspiration and practically shoves his fingers into his mouth. Almost methodical in his precision, Nathan makes sure to suck each digit hard enough that he hopes in some impossible way that a hint of her sticks to his fingers. His fingers make an almost comical  _ “pop!”  _ as they slide out of his mouth and he immediately wraps them around his cock.

_ Her hair,  _ Nathan imagines.  _ So soft, but sharp at the ends.  _ Up and down, he pumps his cock with abandon to the tune of her moans, still ringing in his ears.  _ Her taste,  _ he’s so close.  _ Her smell,  _ he can feel his orgasm building at the back of his balls.  _ Fuckface,  _ he cums, a single spurt, a stream of cum, iridescent against the cold, dark earth. 

Panting her name, Nathan slowly tucks himself back into his jeans, reminding himself to pick up a kleenex from CVS, because  _ fuck,  _ his junk was sticky. 

_ See you soon,  _ her taunt burns his ears. He smirks and brushes the soil off her knees.  _ Oh, I intend to. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap.No, just kidding, there are several things to over here:
> 
> 1) This takes place after Rachel "disappeared." However, you may have noticed that Nathan seems to be distraught after her leaving. So while this could mean that Nathan has a hand to play, I'm not so sure he did...which means an extended universe! Yay!
> 
> 2) Dubious consent. Unlike the last chapter, this entire one-shot reeks of dubious consent, I'll admit. I apologize if any of this made you uncomfortable in any way. But to be honest, after reading and rereading this chapter, I realize that I prioritize the free will of Nathan, Chloe, and any other character over social responsibility. While I recognize that writers, even fanfic writers like myself, have a responsibility to our audiences, we also, by extension, have free will over our work.
> 
> Now, I'm not saying that there aren't problems within the fanfic community when it comes to problematic behavior, especially in relationships. A lot of toxic, abusive relationships are glossed over as "romantic" and "passionate". However, in this context, this story is basically porn with a plot. 
> 
> What that means is that the stories that I write will not always be morally right. You may find them disgusting and reprehensible and deplorable. But as much as I write these fanfics for my audience (you guys), I write them for me too.
> 
> I want to write an alternative universe where Nathan is saved, where he finds love, where he has sex, where the sex is sometimes fucked up, I want to write it all. And you kind readers are in no obligation to read them, and that's totally fine. But here on out, please respect my right to be able to read and post these stories.
> 
> And on that note, PLEASE REQUEST! IF YOU GOT A NATHAN-CENTRIC IDEA, I'M READY TO ROLL! COMMENT, KUDOS, EVERYTHING IS APPRECIATED!
> 
> Thank you for your love and support! Your comments are always a pleasure to read, and your kudos never fails to make me feel loved. See you guys next time! BRING ON THE REQUESTS!


	3. Cat's in the Bag (Grahamscott)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without breaking the kiss, Warren lifted Nathan by his thighs and dispensed him on the counter. Nathan immediately reciprocated by wrapping his legs around Warren’s waist, pulling the younger boy into his heat.
> 
> Flickers of pleasure from where their crotches met, Warren experimentally ground his erection against Nathan’s. 
> 
> “Fuuuck,” Nathan broke the kiss to moan. His mouth and eyes were both halves open with pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you sweethearts have been keeping up with "By Way of the Blue Butterfly", then you know this chapter was coming. I haven't always been an avid fan of Grahamscott, honestly, I haven't written any explicit Grahamscott chapters unless I have a request. But, I've decided to give it a go, dubious content ahead!

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Clear as glass, the acetic acid looks like a harmless beaker of water to the untrained eye. But Warren knows that there was enough to burn a hole in his stomach -possibly, killing him- should he accidentally swallow it.

 _Which might not be such a bad idea,_ Warren silently groused. Even Mrs. Grant had hung up her lab coat and drove away in her 2003 Minivan, it was only by Warrens solid A plus that she had allowed them to use the lab until as long as it took to finish- _which isn’t happening anytime soon._ Almost five hours in, and they hadn’t made anything even remotely resembling progress, save for a scorched set of glassware from when Warren left a bunsen burner unattended.

And by “they”, Warren meant-

“Are you done yet, nerd? Because if I have to watch you mix baking soda and water one more time, I’m going to jump out the fucking window.” Three lines of baking soda were arranged perpendicularly on the fireproof desk. Next to them was a post-it, rolled up into a thin tube.

“You do that, Nathan. Have fun with that.” Normally, Warren was able to deflect the other boy’s crass comments with his customary shrug and half-smile. _Life of being a nerd comes with the package._ But if four and a half hours in a windowless science room and flickering fluorescent lives with _Nathan Prescott_ would be enough to send Mother Teresa into a killing spree, then Warren was a goddamn saint by now.

“What was that, Gay-rahm? You wanna say that to my fucking face?”

For the fiftieth time that day, Warren rubbed his temples (could you get carpet burn on your forehead?) and took a deep breath. _Innnnn. Outttt._

“Look, Nathan, it’s been a long day-”

“No shit, nerd”

 _Because you don’t do anything,_ Warren bit his lips to stifle his irritation. “It’s been a long day, and we’re both really stressed here, so if you could just leave me alone and let me finish, I’d really appreciate it.”

He forced himself to smile. He looked constipated. “Ok?”

The older boy smirked and twirled the thin paper tube in his hands. “God, Graham, you look like you want to wring my neck.” He squeezed the paper tube in the middle hard enough to crease, a crude imitation of choking someone’s neck (soon to be Nathan’s, if he didn’t shut up).

“That’s not the point, Nathan,” Warren lied. He measured another teaspoon of baking soda. _Wait._ “Did you…”

“What?” Nathan smirked. “Spit it out, nerd, we don’t have all night here.” Nathan twirled the paper tube in his hand, rubbing the tip with his thumb and forefinger. He circled the crinkled tip with his thumb and smirked at Warren.

 _Was that my imagination?_ Warren swallowed. Whatever it was, it seemed to be working. Warren stuck his hands in his pocket, discreetly adjusting his pants for some much-needed breathing space. _Think about something else. Think about Albert Einstein. Nothing sexy about Albert Einstein._

Warren stared at the three lines of baking soda, anything to keep his eyes of Nathan. “Wait...are you trying to snort the baking soda?” To his dismay, the three lines of baking soda coupled with the paper tube resembled three lines of cocaine rather than...something else.

“No shit, Graham,” Nathan rolled his eyes. He mimed inhaling the white powder through the paper proboscis. “Took you long enough.”

Warren swallowed his disappoint- _wait, why am I disappointed?_ “Uh..” he stammered. _Nope, nope, nope. Definitely not disappointed, Warren._ “You did it again,” he finished lamely.

“What?” Nathan sneered. “Said something that went completely over your head?”

“No,” Warren swallowed. “You called my Graham. Instead of...y’know…” _Nerd. Fag,_ He hoped Nathan didn’t notice the slight flush in his cheeks. _Gayrahm._

Nathan’s smirk turned to a scowl. “Yeah, whatthefuckever. What are you getting so excited for?”

 _And there it was._ “Forget it, Nathan”. _Just when you thought he wasn’t a total ass._ Pouring 5 milliliters into a graduated cylinder, Warren lined himself up eye level to measure the meniscus. “Just two milliliters off” he mumbled to himself.

Taking the younger boy’s mumbling for quiet disapproval, Nathan flared. “No, really, Graham. You have something to say to me?” Nathan tossed the paper tube so that it bounced off the back of Warren’s head.

“Hey, what the hell?” The crumpled post-it hurt as much as he expected it would (which wasn’t at all), but the gesture was enough to fray Warren’s nerves. “What’s your problem, Nathan?”

He hadn’t realized how close Nathan was until he felt the push of his thin hands against his back. He stumbled into the graduated cylinder, _crap, he was stronger than he looked._ Tilting to the side, the glassware rolled off the fireproof counters where it abruptly smashed into pieces on the white tile.

Warren whipped around. “What the hell, Nathan? It took me forever to mix that solution!” His tone was icy and blue like the innermost flame of a bunsen burner.

“Who cares, nerd?” He pushed Warren back, those two, thin hands pushing Warren back with more strength than they ought to have. “You’re just a fucking nerd, Gayrahm. I bet you do this shit all day. All alone in this little laboratory while Max rides around with that blue-haired dike.” Nathan scrunches up his face, which is the blaring obnoxious red of his varsity jacket.

Warren clenched his fist. _Get fucked, Nathan._ “Don’t talk about her that way, Nathan. Don’t you _dare_ talk about her like that.” Blurring into a hodgepodge of drab colors, the science room fades until all Warren can see is a sneering Nathan and his red jacket, red face, red lips.

“Like what, homo?” Nathan simpers. “Just give up, Gayrahm. There’s no way that Max wants your pathetic, loser _dick-”_

Warren slams Nathan into the cabinets. Pain flares on his knee when they knock against the lower cabinets but the satisfaction of pinning Nathan’s wrist makes it worth it.

“Take. That. Back.” Warren growls and digs his nails into Nathan’s wrist. Interestingly enough, he isn’t met with any resistance, Nathan just shifts his arms over his head so that they don’t obscure Warren’s face.

“Shut up, Gayrahm”. Before Warren can spit something back, the older boy smashes their lips together. Open with shock, his mouth is vulnerable to all manners of prodding from Nathan’s darting tongue.

By the tongue Nathan licks the roof of his mouth, Warren’s newness wears off, replaced with hunger. To Nathan’s surprise, Warren adapts quickly; he slides his tongue around Nathan’s, eliciting a wet moan.

“Ow!” Nathan smirks when Warren rubs his lips. Red with the smell of copper, his blood smears his thumb when he wipes his lip. “You bit me!”

“Yeah? So what, nerd?” Nathan silences Warren another kiss. Despite the _extremely_ effective distraction, Warren still feels pangs of frustration pierce his chest. He could feel the skim of teeth against his lips for the second time. This time before Nathan had the opportunity to nip him, he slammed Nathan into the cabinets so that his head bounced off a handle.

Without breaking the kiss, Warren lifted Nathan by his thighs and dispensed him on the counter. Nathan immediately reciprocated by wrapping his legs around Warren’s waist, pulling the younger boy into his heat.

Flickers of pleasure from where their crotches met, Warren experimentally ground his erection against Nathan’s.

“Fuuuck,” Nathan broke the kiss to moan. His mouth and eyes were both half-open with pleasure.

“Is that the only thing you know how to say?” Warren taunted. Nathan snapped his lips shut and scowled.

“Hmmm,” he pretended to stroke his chin and contemplate. “How about, fuck me Gay-rahm?”

 _Well, shit,_ Warren didn’t know how to respond to that- so he his blushing face in Nathan’s neck. Meanwhile, Warren couldn’t even detect a hint of pink as the older boy let out another sensual moan.

It wasn’t exactly embarrassment that had settled over Warren as it was a fit of strange jealousy, but for what reason, he had no idea. Suckling a hickey on Nathan’s collar bone, his anger spiked tenfold while Nathan quietly cursed under his breath.

Whatever he was feeling, it was enough to rip Nathan’s varsity jacket and fling it to some empty corner. He was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt underneath that pissed Warren off even more because it has entirely too many buttons.

“Need a hand there, klutz?” Nathan sneered.

“No,” Warren replied darkly, as he opted for tearing the last two or three buttons off.

“Are you kidding me?” Warren growled when there was yet, another layer, a black, cotton v neck, beneath Nathan’s stupid button down. _Who wears a jacket, a button down and a shirt in June?_

Nathan chortled and lifted his hands up so that Warren could pull the shirts over his head. An expanse of pale skin greeted him, Warren liked that his skin was all the same shade. Six bones jutted out below his pectorals- _his ribs,_ Warren realized- but before he could get a closer look, Nathan was shrugging Warren’s lab coat off.

“Less talking, more fucking, _nerd,”_ Nathan scathed. Warren pulled his Schrodinger t-shirt over his head. As he fumbled with the notches of his belt, Nathan managed to pull down his pants, boxer-briefs included, and kicking them off along with his shoes.

“God,” Nathan laughed, “have you ever even done this before, loser?” Warren was still kicking off a converse, nearly bumping into the counter’s sharp corner.

  
“I’ll take your silence as a no,” Nathan smirked. _There,_ he had managed to kick off the crappy converse and not puncture himself one of the stupidly sharp cabinet corners.

Warren hobbled to Nathan, with a sort of self-deprecating slouch. An air of defeat- shame, even- on Warren’s end tainted the windowless classroom.

Any minute now, he expected Nathan to laugh at him and whip out a strategically placed smartphone from inside the cabinets. _Breaking News: Warren Graham is the Biggest, Loser Virgin this side of Oregon!_

“Hey, earth to Gayrahm,” Nathan snapped. “Stop spazzing out, retard. Are we going to do this or what?”

The older boy’s acid tone washed over Warren, leaving him raw and furious. Nathan didn’t just push all his buttons, he punched them with the brutal force of an MMA fighter.

“God,” Nathan taunted. “I should have known you’d be too much of a pussy to do this”.

“FUCK YOU!” Warren snapped. In a single movement, he yanked Nathan’s legs over his shoulders, exposing his puckered hole. “I’m going to fuck you,” Warren growled. “And you’re going to shut up and take it.”

Nathan bit his lip and nodded. Entirely too innocent, his blue eyes seemed soft and doe-like, lidded in anticipation.

“There’s lube in my back pocket,” Nathan swallowed.

“Don’t. Move.” Nathan mutely nodded and pulled a hand to his own hardened cock. “Oh god,” Nathan whimpered as he stroked his cock.

Warren swatted his hands away from his cock, holding the bottle of lube. “I said don’t move.”

“Then get on with it, _Gayrahm,”_ Nathan hissed.

Nathan yelped as his legs were yanked open for the second time that evening. Cold and slightly slimy, the lube was a shock against his anus. More of a shock was the intrusion of Warren’s fingers, two of them, bunched up side-by-side, pressing into his hole.

“Oh shit,” Nathan hissed through his teeth. Delicious, the pain of Warren’s fat fingers stretching his puckered hole. Knuckle deep, Nathan clenched around the welcome intrusion.

“You’re tight,” Warren marveled, the anger in his voice switching for something that wasn’t quite endearment. “You feel so tight around my fingers, bet you’re going to feel even better around my big cock.”

At the mention of Warren’s cock, sorry, his _big cock,_ Nathan leaned back and took a good lock at what Warren was packing. Not quite as long as Nathan’s, perhaps an inch or so off, Warren was clearly gifted with girth. He was thick, the diameter of his cock equivalent to his wrist.

Clearly, Warren was circumcised, the fat head of his dick dribbling pre-cum. Nathan reached down, palming the warm flesh in his hand. He half expected Warren to swat his hands away, but Warren just pants. Nathan squirts a generous dollop of lube on Warren’s cock, which jerks to life. He’s so thick, it takes two hands to smear the lube all over Warren’s (impressive) girth.

 _Here we fucking go._ Nathan takes a deep breath, pressing the rim of his anus against the tip of Warren’s dick. But before he can push forward, Warren pushes a palm against Nathan’s chest.

“C-condoms?” Warren asked.

“I’m completely clean, asshole,” Nathan spits. If only Warren’s concern was un(Warren)ted. He had a reputation at school, crazy parties, and even crazier sex life. Nathan preached complete and total hedonism- and sometimes that meant stocking up on condoms at the free clinic while your test results were being processed. He was reckless, not stupid.

Well, not always, Warren’s bare cock rubbing against his hole, case in point. But he was, like, 200% sure that Warren was a virgin.

“Besides,” Nathan smirked, sliding the length of Warren’s cock on his puckered hole. _God, I need to be filled._ “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

 _Bingo._ “That’s not what I meant, Nathan,” Warren flushed. “What about the mess?”

“What about it?” His voice is gruffer than he intends, but Nathan has to hide the flush in his cheeks _somehow_. It’s not as if Warren got down on one knee, but Warren’s nonjudgemental tone touched Nathan more than it ought to.

“God, I’m sick of this waiting crap.” Nathan snaps his hips up, swallowing the younger boy’s cock which a staggering thrust. _Fuuuuuck._ The burn of being stretched so suddenly on Warren’s fat cock is fucking _godly._ “Ah!” Girlishly soft, Nathan yelps as Warren sinks the rest of the way in.

From this vantage point, Nathan spread-eagled on the fireproof counters, he can’t help but feel like a human guinea pig, pumped full of an array of mystery medications. Strangely enough, the thought of being pricked with a needle- eagle spread, in the dark- makes Nathan’s stomach flop. Thankfully, Warren’s cute, little _“ugh!”_ banishes the nauseating thought from Nathan’s mind.

“Your dick is huge,” Nathan whimpers. Well, not, it’s not actually that big ( _yours is still longer,_ he reminds himself) but the girth stretches Nathan’s hole to the point where it clenches around Warren’s dick.

He sighs when Warren bottoms out, the last few inches pushing Nathan’s puckered, quivering hole totally open. _Ow._ It’s so big- _too big,_ but _fuck,_ he finally feels full for once, his insides gripping on to Warren’s pulsing cock.

“Oh, shit,” Warren praises. “Oh, shit”. His mouth forms a perfect "O". A sort of haggard whine escapes from his open lips.

“You better not come yet, nerd” Nathan threatens. His own cock is neglected still, straight against his stomach, but not yet dribbling precum.

“Shit, I can’t…” Warren whines. Nathan can feel the throb of Warren’s dick inside him, it’s pulsing like he’s about to-

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” Warren howls. _Goddamn virgin,_ Nathan sighs as Warren’s cock jerks inside him. One short thrust and the thick column of flesh shoots inside him. Still, Nathan would be lying if the thick, creamy spurts of  Warren’s cum coating the inside of his walls wasn’t totally satisfying.

“Shit!” Warren yelps as a particularly thick glob of cum leave his cock twitching wildly inside Nathan, who is frantically jerking off his own cock.

“You’re pathetic Gayrahm,” Nathan pants. “Did you seriously just come?” He asks, a little late, considering Warren’s well, already came inside him, but his dick seems to still be hard. Hard enough to pump his cum deep inside Nathan, (the thought makes his hips stutter).

“Should’ve known that you wouldn’t even last thirty seconds.” Crude with malice, Warren recognizes the hateful snarl of Nathan’s mouth, pushing him against the lockers, etching Gayrahm on his desk with a red sharpie, even now, that stupid nickname.

“Shut the fuck up, Nathan.” _Gayrahm?_ Rich, considering the fact that Warren was slamming _his dick_ inside the older boy, pumping _his cum_ into Nathan’s quivering ass.

It’s as if he can think clearer now that he's come, that he finally knows what he wants. And what he wants, is to thrust his cock into Nathan’s spoiled ass until the sun blows up.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Graham, what the- _ahhh.”_ Warren sharply bucked his hips into Nathan’s sloppy hole. Oddly enough, he could better relish Nathan’s just how tight Warren was. Before he was about to cum, there was a fog in Warren’s head, disoriented and hazy, it was a miracle he managed to last more than one thrust.

But now, he’s dialed to eleven, hyper-aware of the extra slick of his own cum, coating Nathan’s channel.

“Fuck, Graham,” Nathan cried out. He wrapped one wand around his cock, bouncing against his belly from the force of Warren’s thrusts. “Fuck me just like that.”

“I’ll fuck you however I want,” Warren grunted. Hard and deep, he decided, the slap of his heavy balls hitting Nathan’s ass.

“I don’t, _ah,_ care,” Nathan swallowed. He felt so slick and loose around Warren. So wet, Warren’s cock just glided out of his ass without any resistance, S _chlick, Schlick, Schlick._

His cum glistened on his cock, leaking out of Nathan’s hole as Warren thrust deeper.

“Fuck,” he could feel his balls clutching close to him, now. “I’m going to come again.”

“Then _cum_ already,” Nathan begged. Desperately fisting the head of his cock, stained a beautiful crimson.

“Come on Graham, cum with me, cum with me, cum with me,” Nathan chanted. Glassy with ardor, his eyes made an expression that looked so absolutely wrecked, Warren knew he wouldn’t last longer

It only took two well-cantered thrusts and Nathan's cock twitched wildly. “Ahhhh,” Nathan quivered as viscous spurts of ejaculate shot on them both. And it only took two much sloppily executed thrusts after than, and Warren was cumming, deep inside Nathan.

Warren panted, it was a radically different type of climax, from the one he had minutes ago. Instead of jetting out inside Nathan’s trembling walls, his cum just dribbles out of his cockhead, a slow yet steady stream of cum.

“Jesus,” Warren grunted.

“You’re,” Nathan breathed, “still coming?”

“Hn”, Warren grunted in confirmation. As if his stamina was draining from his dick as he emptied himself into Nathan. Pulsing, once and twice, the last of his ejaculate finally dripped out and Warren was boneless.

“Get off me, Graham,” Nathan complained. “You’re heavy.” He wouldn’t have obliged Nathan's protest (at least he’d like to think so) unless he hadn’t felt the hollow imprint of his lips press into his own abdomen. Folded over like that, Nathan looked like he could snap in half if Warren put his weight into it. But when the older boy pressed his knees against Warren’s torso, the brute force sent him stumbling back, the contrast of the cold air to Nathan’s warm insides, Warren’s cock went instantly flaccid.

Nathan scrunched his pain, quietly cursing the rivulet of cum, so opaque and white, it blended into his pale skin. Sore, he was so sore, and the ache left him devoid of any sensation but anger.

“Nathan, can you move?” For all of his copulatory bravado, Nathan’s blue eyes squinted in pain made his stomach flip. “Did I hurt, you?”

“Who cares?” Nathan flatly replied. Flickering on and off, “Stupid, fucking lights” Nathan pushed himself off the counter, and grimaced. Quietly cursing, he dug his nails into the counter, hissing as his legs adjusted to standing.

“Do you need me to carry you?” Warren asked as he reached to steady Nathan.

“No,” Nathan swatted Warren’s away. “You can stop pretending to care, now Graham. Hidden cameras are gone now.”

“I never thought,” Warren swallowed. “I’m not pretending.” Cold, the air was so cold on Warren’s skin. Nathan didn’t seem to be listening as he walked over to his discarded jeans and slid them on.

Nathan slid the white shirt on, then the sweater, and finally his signature varsity jacket. “We better get an A on this,” Of course, he made clear he had no intention of helping out, already limping out the door.

“Or what?” Warren asked. He was still naked and pinched his palms to keep his hands at his sides.

Nathan inhaled. “Just do it.” Leaving Warren with his thoughts and his clothes all strewn all over the place.  


* * *

 

So if I were a different author, this would be the part where I say some shit like "Teehee I'm going to hide in a corner" *blush*.

Yeah, Ew. No, I really don't like when authors do that. Sexuality is something NOT to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Really, as long as you practice safe, consensual sex, no one should care. Unless we're talking about fanfic, which is a whole different ball game. Which we are. Ok, time to get my soapbox.

Sex in fanfictions can be pretty sketchy, especially because it doesn't have to subscribe to any legal or moral framework. And while I am strictly against censorship, and I am in NO position to police other people's works, I CAN observe. And after skimming and reading and analyzing an ungodly amount of gay fanfic these are the conclusions I've come with:

1) Gay men are fetishized

There's nothing wrong about producing gay porn of any kind. However, I see a lot of "yaoi" type fanfic which completely fetishizes gay men, ironically enough, for the pleasures of young women. The problem with this is that a lot of authors brush over the masculinity and experiences from gay culture and reduce gay men to sex objects.

Of course, this could be said about ANY word porn. However, what I've noticed is that a lot of shippers or writers seem to equate enjoy gay porn or shipping gay men the equivalent of being a perfect LGBT ally when that's honestly not necessarily the case. This is why I, personally, get Tumblr request accusing me of being "homophobic" because I don't ship certain gay characters or even characters that aren't gay at all.

I've said this a thousand times before: shipping gay characters is NOT indicative of someone's (often grossly uninformed views) on LGBT people. Fetishizing LGBT people does not NECESSARILY make someone an lgbt ally, in the same way NOT shipping gay characters does not make someone a homophobe. Many homophobes can enjoy gay porn and do, while simultaneously hating on gay people's lifestyle.

Although you can ship gay characters and be an ally, many authors take some moral high ground with their gay ships, to the point where they bash other ships. Sometimes they even ship two straight characters together, regardless of circumstance, just for the sake of having a gay ship (which is again, oversexualized).

You could even argue, that Grahamscott, is an example of this. And you may be right. Which is why I want to actively prevent the oversexualization or degradation of men in my stories as mere sex objects. However, when I write chapters like this, it almost invalidates my argument. That's why I'll further explain my interpretation of Nathan's sexuality.

But in the meantime, I think it's hypocrisy when people claim a moral high ground based on their gay sometimes, uncircumstantial ships, considering some people only ship them because "they look pretty together".

2) Bisexuality is often erased

The epitome of the "bisexual" experience is being told you're not really gay or you're not really straight. This happens SO much in gay fanfiction. It might not appear as OVERT bisexual erasure, but mostly as brushing off past romantic relationships with female characters. Bonus points, if the two gay characters are straight.

Again, there's nothing inherently wrong about shipping two gay characters, you can ship them until the sun blows up for all I care, but when former female encounters are brushed aside as being "mistakes" it feeds into that harmful stereotype of all bisexual people supposedly being either "gay" or "straight". Which brings me to my next point,

3) If one of both characters had a former female lover, they are carelessly, sometimes hatefully brushed aside.

I think it stems from an insecurity of keeping one's ship valid, but sometimes when the fandom ships two straight characters, canonically they often have corresponding female partners. Instead of viewing these female partners as full-fleshed people (which is sometimes not the case within the media they exist in), they see them as obstacles.

These women are portrayed as "harpies" and are one-dimensional mean girls most of the time. At best, they're brushed off with a note, sometimes they're even supporters of the gay ship (which is honestly a decent alternative, being a supporter, not being brushed off). At worst, they're written as vile people, killed off, and seen as complete objects worthy of scorn.

It's this inability to reconcile a female character as even a former lover, or love interest, that exposes their insecurity. These women are threats to their gay ship, so they must be eliminated. I'm not going to go in as to why (mostly) female authors tearing down other women is bad, but yeah. It's bad.

*Gets off soapbox*  ~~Ignore the fact that me endonote was so long that I had to make it part of the story format.~~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for some good old fashioned LIS analysis.
> 
> 1) I think Nathan has some degree of internalized homophobia. he actively uses gay slurs as insults, and in a game as sexually progressive as LIS, I don't think that's a complete coincidence. In fact, deeply closeted people are MOST likely to project their hatred and insecurity because they can't come to terms with being a homosexual. 
> 
> That being said, I still interpret Nathan AND Warren as bisexual (at the very least capable of being with wither male or females) because of the reasons stated above. I don't want to limit two characters to being "gay" (not there's any problem if they were) because a lot of people in the sexuality spectrum are severely underrepresented. It's pretty rare to see a bisexual character, much less two bisexual characters together, and I think it's because fandoms, and societies, as a whole, don't take bisexuality seriously.
> 
> 2) Nathan's eating disorder.
> 
> Eating disorders sometimes stem from a need for control. Canonically, Nathan has appetite suppressants. I'm sorry for the trigger warnings of bone and skin, but eating disorders should not be glamorized. They are fatal diseases.
> 
> 3) Nathan's body dysmorphia
> 
> If you've noticed, in my previous NSFW caluscott chapter, Nathan kept his shirt on because he was uncomfortable exposing his body. Here it's the opposite and on purpose. In some cases, body dysmorphic people are more likely to expose themselves during casual hookups as a way to punish themselves for daring to be intimate. It's an auto-aggression. 
> 
> Overall, this was an interesting experience. I definitely plan on writing more nsfw grahamscott chapters. I just will always make sure that nothing goes uncommented on. To be honest, I plan to divulge in all sorts of NSFW shenanigans that would be an absolute taboo. But if you give me the chance to explain myself, I will always.
> 
> AS ALWAYS, LEAVE A COMMENT! ASK A QUESTION, CRITICIZE, I'M ALWAYS HAPPY TO WRITE BACK! HAVE A REQUEST! I'M ALL EARS!


	4. Philia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nathan,” she acknowledges.
> 
> “Ms. Caulfield,” he smirks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's been a hell of a long time since I updated. Let's talk about that.
> 
> So I'm not abandoning this work or BWOTBB anytime soon. I love writing! It's mentally stimulating. But when you post your work on an online form you're subjected to criticism. In my case, some of these criticisms are downright hateful. And mean.
> 
> I find myself second guessing what I write. I find myself projecting those hate comments onto myself. And it takes a toll on me. But you guys probably don't want to hear about that. Here's the porn, I guess.

“Why did Diane Arbus kill herself?”

Here is something you don’t see every day: 

Fifteen or so hands shot straight in the air. Indian summer, four years, ago. Hayden had said they were the best seats in the stadium.  _ “Peanuts and beer, get your peanuts and beer!”  _ Whenever the batter swung his bat,  _ clunk,  _ Nathan would always duck a little as the off white ball soared overhead. An older woman, soccer mom perhaps, practically climbed into his lap as she grappled for her trophy, her big, heaving breasts inches from his nose. 

“It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine,” she chanted, orgiastic in her initiative, he saw her desire reflected in her eyes, shrunk down to that yellowish rubber sphere.

“No,” he growled, rising to the challenge “It’s  _ mine.” _

“Mr. Prescott?”

_ Victory.  _ The bleached cowhide burned his fingers from the Florida sun, let it burn a hole in his palm.

“Because she wasn’t getting anything back.” Immediately, the students’ hands drop, puppets with cut strings.

Vic playfully scowls at him.  _ “Nerd,”  _ she mouths.

“Very good, Nathan! But can you elaborate?” The strings mend themselves, he bets half of them don’t even know the answer.

“No,” Nathan smirks, as they sag and sigh. “She didn’t leave any last words.”

The object of victory isn’t in the answer or even in the grades- he would fail this class a million times if it meant spending his three o’clock with her. Trite, but the others aren’t any exception.

Even Kate Marsh, resident Christian girl, isn’t immune to her charm. “Mrs. Arbus left a portfolio behind, didn’t she?” She is timid enough to second guess her sentences, but not enough to stop speaking out of turn. 

“Yes! Yes, that’s right Kate.” She laughs, the soft flap of butterfly wings. “Her last photographs were left untitled...though perhaps, that was on purpose?” Whenever she went off on a tangent- which she did, often- her mutterings were a private room into her thoughts. “Maybe it was defiance? Probably a clarion call, this is the end!, I don’t know.” 

Tossing stacks of paper aside, yet-to-be graded assignments from last year and dog-eared magazines of Variety and Harper's Bazaar and a half-eaten bagel. “Where is that damn clicker?” 

This was also a daily occurrence, somewhere between rambling about a photograph (which ranged from filtered selfies skimmed off teenage Instagram pages to American staples, today’s Arbus case in point) and spitting out questions, half-hypothetical,  _ always _ open to interpretation, she would misplace-

“Hey, has anyone seen...?”

-her clicker.

“Is it under your magazine?” Which was the last sensible guess, by the way.

“Is it in your coffee mug?” The students prattled. “Behind your stapler?” 

“No,” she chirped. Inevitably, her desk would eventually resemble a hurricane swept city, and if it was hard to distinguish her papers before, it would be downright impossible now. 

“Did it fall on the floor?” Whinier than the rest of the herd, Nathan was able to distinguish Warren’s aggravating voice from his fake rasp. He thought it made him sound older. It didn’t, he sounded like a constipated French tourist.

“Hmm, lemme see.” Her off-shoulder shirt hung off her breasts as she proceeded to bend over.  _ That little shit. _

“It’s on the blackboard!” Ten boys whipped their heads around, identical expressions of utter betrayal. His voice louder than he intended, he swallowed. “It’s on the blackboard,” Nathan repeated. “With the chalk.”

“Ah!” she noticed. “Thank you. Anyways…”

Vic slid a piece of paper in his direction. “Wow. Jealous much?” Scribbled in rich, purple ink.

“You saw how they were looking at her,” he scribbled with a leftover pencil (he always forgot to bring his own). “They were going to eat her alive.”

Victoria’s smugly smiles. “And you weren’t?” 

Before Nathan can scrawl a scathing reply, the bell rings. 

“Ugh, looks like I lost track of time again, guys.” She flips the lights back on. Reluctantly, the students stuff their portfolios away, a few of them line up for extra questions.

“I gotta ask a couple of questions, too, Vic.” He slides his crumpled sheet of paper haphazardly into his pocket and grabs onto the pencil for safekeeping.

“That’s the second time this week.” She snatches her tote bag off the chair handle, swinging it over her shoulder and nearly taking off Nathan’s nose.

“Vic!”  _ So this is what it feels like.  _

Her temper is ice, he can feel his blood crystalize when she looks at him. “See you next week,” and she slams the door behind her.

“Aren’t you going to go after her?” Taylor, bless her heart, juggles the rest of Victoria’s belongings, and scampers out the door. Without Victoria’s flair, her dismal sashay was more disapproving-suburban-mom-who-knows-you-snuck-out-last-night.

“I’m sorry guys,” she tucks her portfolio under her arms. Reluctantly, they shuffle out of line. Stray students, not easily deprived of her spellbinding affectation, still huddle her like worker bees. “Really,” she insists but laughs as they clamor.

His note anchors his pants pocket.  _ “They were going to eat her alive.”  _ Dragging him down, until he’s plastered to the linoleum floors.  _ Paper Weight. _

Heavy with abandon, he aims a tired, devoted, tirelessly devoted look. She smiles in that way her two front teeth peek out from under lips like ballerinas hiding beneath curtains, poking their perfect ballerina buns in between intermission. 

“My office hours are every Wednesday!” she reminds her students when they’re already pooling into the hallway. Warren,  _ (bastard),  _ finally slinks out the door, shutting it behind him. 

_ “Why are you still here?”  _ Warren seems to say with his miffed expression. 

_ “Fuck you, that’s why,”  _ Nathan glares back.

The quiet stacking of papers, him, impatiently tapping his shoes,  _ tick tick tick,  _ seconds slips out of his fingers like grains of sand.

“Nathan,” she acknowledges.

“Ms. Caulfield,” he smirks. Pausing to restock her papers, her mouth pursed. 

“Haven’t we been through this before?” In her frustration, she knocks over a ceramic cup, blue as pigeon eggs. Thankfully empty, it rolls around her desk, nearly falling off. 

“Max,” he amends. He steps closer. She makes no indication of acknowledging his amelioration, but her eyes follow him. 

“Max,” he comes closer, close enough that his lips ghost the back of her nape. He kisses her there, a purple blotch where her hairline meets skin. 

“It’ll show,” she whines. 

“Wear your hair down for a few days.” He unclasps her barrette, brown hair tumbling from her messy bun. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that she’s smiling. “Change it up,” he kisses her hair. Wildflowers, rain, and cheap shampoo, he inhales. 

“Variety’s the spice,” she turns around and kisses him, soundly enough to quell any sarcastic comment on the uprise. 

Her lips. 

They do this thing where they flutter against his lips as if she can’t decide whether or not to kiss him. Sticking to him one minute, coyly shying away the next. Her indecision drove him mad, it only made him want to possess her. 

“Nate-” He grabs the back of her head, he wants to kiss her speechless. Her tongue a flighty thing. It darts in and out of his mouth, indecision, the inability to, to,  _ fuck. _

He’s too far gone.

He breaks the kiss and immediately pounces on her collarbone. It’s a lovely place to kiss, the bumps of her clavicle bump against his teeth. 

“Another one?” she gasps. 

“Mhmm,” he dazedly replies, nipping her skin. Roses on her body, he presents her with a bouquet. She tosses her shirt off,  _ finally,  _ and he aches to touch. 

A woman’s body, he watches the stretch of her spine as she pulls the off-shoulder shirt overhead, is different from a girl’s. Her body isn’t as malleable, the curve of her breasts have already been formed, irreversible as plastic. Girls were like a six-sided die, a seemingly infinite selection of possibilities: tall, fat, freckled, wrinkled.

Whereas his teenage trysts, made him want to sculpt their bodies,  _ making a woman _ , Max had already been constructed, and he wanted nothing more than to lay pilgrimage to her figure, in all its finished glory.

He was free to make love to her,  _ he _ molded to her hands, shrugging his jacket, his shirt, his everything. Even if this ended badly- like so much in his life did- it was liberating to know that he wouldn’t leave his stamp on her. 

But it also made him anxious.

“Nathan, you’ve been,  _ ah!  _ pretty nippy this afternoon. What’s gotten into you?” He pauses, halfway into sucking a love bite on the top of her breasts. What would he do with himself if he tainted her? 

“It’s nothing,” he tries, ducking back to her cleavage. “

“Hey, hey,” she says. Cupping his head in her hands, “Are you worried?” 

“No…”

“Then?”

“I can’t stand it.”

“Can’t stand what?”

“Can’t stand not being inside you.”  _ Can’t stand the way they look at you. _

“Wowzer.”

“Yeah.” He laughs when her blush reaches her ears. Maybe she is a woman, but Max will always be Max. It doesn’t matter how many love bites he leaves, how many moans he lures out of her like a tiger to a trap, he will never really have her. 

“Nathan, what?-” He spins her around so that she faces her desk. Swatting the clutter off her desk, papers and magazines and post-its flutter off the desk like autumn leaves. 

“I want you like this,” his hot breath tickles her ears. He bites into her shoulder, the smattering of freckles blossoming into bruises.

_ “Want,”  _ in his bones, the heat under his skin.  _ “Want you,”  _ his skin sings where he brushes his hardon against her satin skirt.

“You’re cleaning up that mess, Nathan.” All the same, he doesn’t really care about the strewed papers. He reaped messes everywhere he stepped giant, inescapable messes that snared everyone that crossed his path. Tangled up together, Max and Nathan were living off borrowed time before this all blew up in their faces.

How would it end? _ An incriminating text message, sent to the wrong person? _ Nathan unhooks her bra, sliding it off her shoulders, the shoulders he bit.  _ A peeping face, lurking in the doorway?  _ Cupping her breast, in his hands, her nipples pucker under his fingertips.  _ Caught on camera? _

“Nathan, we don’t have much time,” she pleaded. 

_ “Fuck,”  _ He slides down his black pants and boxers in one go. He’s already leaking in his pants like he’s twelve and the cold, clammy air doesn’t help. They cling to his knees, and he doesn’t have the patience to kick off his shoes.

“Condoms are in the left drawer,” she reminds him as if he could ever forget. Just like her desk, her drawer is an amalgamation of broken pencils, paperclips, and more assignments, yet to be graded. Sharp as a blade, he nicks his finger on a sharpener, or perhaps it’s the edge of a sharp photograph,  _ god knows she hoarded photos the way other people collected buttons.  _ Blood trickles down his finger, it stains the condom wrapper, and then the condom when he tears it open.

Thankfully, the streak of blood is on the outside of the condom, but it looks like his dick is bleeding when he rolls it up.

“Nathan, hurry up!” she whines. Naked, she’s naked now, and the enticing curve of her hips reduces Nathan to a paralyzed voyeur. 

“Nathan!” she snaps.

“I know,” he swallows as he stands behind her. Palms flat against her desk, the slope of her back beckons him closer. His cock feels hot under the latex.

_ God, she’s already wet,  _ he rubs his cock right under her lips ever so slowly. Moisture clings to him, her heat is pulsing for him.

“Nathan, just, ahh…” He plunges. She opens up to him easy, so easy. Only inches deep, but he moans as the tip of his cock is squeezed under that wonderful, wet heat. She’s a woman, solid as granite, he feels his erection meld to her insides. 

“I’m almost…” he pushes, pushes all the way in, and Nathan can’t help but moan. 

“Yes, yes…” Max croons. Pushing back, she envelopes him inside her. 

__ Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum.  _ Instead, Nathan focuses on the clock.  _ Tick tick tick.  _ Minute hand melds into the hour hand, 2:10 P.M. Fifteen minutes until some all-to-eager pupil comes waltzing through her door. Ten if they come early (which  _ they inevitably do). Ovoid outer shell gives way to a blurry stain, the clock drips off the wall like a cracked egg.

It all melds together, the clock, her hushed moans, his hands on her skin. Nathan relents to this Daliesque landscape, she clutches his cock. Wet, her essence drips off the condom, sliding off the latex until it hits his pubic bone. 

“It’s ok, Nathan,” Max reassures. Nails digging into mahogany, she claws her desk. “Just fuck me already.”

Nathan is nothing but defiant, but when she orders him, the words engrain into every fiber of his being and pull him taut. His hips seize and pull his cock back so that only the tip grazes her lips.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he quietly promises as he presses a kiss to her hair. Angling his hips just so, Nathan surges forward, bucking his cock inside her as hard as he can.

She preens, “just like that.” He pulls his cock out of her again, leaving just the bloodstained tip as he slams back in.

“Yes,” she punctuates his lunges with a breathy exaltation. Leaning forward onto her desk, her spine stretches out before him with feline grace. 

There is nothing short about the way Nathan’s fucking her, but his hips move with a staccato rhythm.  _ Fuck her.  _ Her nails scratching against the desk is a hideous sound, made tolerable by her whimpering.  _ Fuck her just like this. _

He doesn’t have to see her breasts to know that they’re bouncing from the force.  _ Her tits, her perfect tits.  _ Snaking a hand around her, his fingers trace the outside of her breast, rocking with the impact of his animalistic thrusts. 

Cats in heat, she yowls when he squeezes her breast, hard. “Touch me, Nathan, touch me there!” Hardened pebbles graze his finger,  _ god, she’s so turned on.  _ The stark rocking of his hips,  _ a fucking animal, an animal made for fucking,  _ she swallows his length whole every time he snaps his hips.

Nathan traces the outside of her areola and she grunts in frustration.  _ Cute. _

“You know,” she pants as he bucks his hips, powerfully this time, “You know that’s not what I need.” Max takes his hand and presses his finger against her nipple and he smirks. 

“I know what you need,  _ Ms. Caulfield,”  _ Nathan smirks. Fondling her nipple, the nerves in her body spark as he pinches it between his forefingers. “And I know  _ how  _ to give it to you.”

Brushing his nose, her soft, brown hair pesters him of his possession. He yanks her hair back, finally meeting her eyes. Glazed with arousal, the deep blue of an ocean, drowning in Max.

“Is that so?” She presses a kiss to his mouth, searing, all tongue. Her tongue is small, it snakes past his lips.

Bunching her hair in his greedy hands, he decided to finish like this. The pace is brutal, his cock rams inside her tight, wet heat hard enough for the desk to shake. 

“Close,” she chants. “Close.” He wonders if she can come like this, untouched save for his cock. Every time Max clenches her thighs he feels his head nearly explode. 

“Can you cum like this?” It’s not a question, she can hear the challenge in his voice. “Just from my cock?” 

“Maybe,” she slides his hand back to her breast. “Do your best,” she says, and he hears the teacher in her voice, and  _ fuck me if that isn’t the hottest thing ever. _

Truth be told, his challenge is more bravado than he’s willing to admit. Still, he continues his ministrations on her breast. Flicking her nipple with his fingers, he bites down into her shoulder. Dotted like a constellation, his teeth leave a jagged trail.

His hand finds hers, eagle spread on her desk, he entwines their fingers together. When he bucks his cock back inside her, her nails dig deep into his palm. 

“I could cum,” she whines, as he shifts inside her.  _ Fuck where is it, where is it.  _ She  _ could  _ cum, but she can’t not until he finds that spot. Nathan focuses, tries to focus, but his mind melts when he’s inside her, shrunken down to that silken passage. “I could cum like this,” she wails, squeezing her thighs together.

“I know,” Nathan promises. “I know,” he shifts his angle so that he scrapes her inner walls. He can’t find that spot, that elusive bundle of nerves, but he can angle himself so that his hips slam close to her clitoris.

He pulls her nipple, alternating between the scrape of his fingernails and the soft pads of his fingertips. 

“Yes!” she praises. “Just like that,” her arms shake and she collapses on the hardwood. Bent over like this, it’s the perfect vantage point. He holds onto her hips and just  _ pounds  _ at that angle. 

Her desk isn’t even shaking, it’s practically rocking as he snaps his hips, close to her clitoris. Maybe it’s the new position, maybe it’s the mahogany, Max stills, calm and unmoving as a marble statue, and then clenches around Nathan,  _ tight. _

“Mmmm,” she softly whimpers. All of a sudden her body spasms, cheek squished against the desk, she finally, cums. 

Nathan, bruising her hips with her vice-like grip, is a bit behind. The aftermath spasms from her orgasm feel good, but he needs more. He wants to bury himself deep inside her and just let her milk him dry, so that’s what he does.

“F-fuuuuck,” Oversensitized, he lets Max do the work, clenching his cock to the hilt.  _ Oh. God.  _ Her walls, wetness, warmness, all around him, rubbing his head, cumming,  _ thank fuck _ .

A silence settles over the classroom that neither of them went to disturb. But there are five minutes before her next class coming in, and Nathan can hear footsteps and chatter from the hall.

He pulls out of her. Red as rust, the streak of blood on the head of his condom is heart-rending and leaves him wistful. He’s a greedy bastard, aren’t the bruises on her skin enough? The lovebites he inflicted won’t stay that lovely purple hue, a week later they’ll mottle into garish greens and yellows.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly as he slips on his pants.  _ Clink,  _ his leather belt burns where it means the thin stripe of his skin. It’s the loneliest sound in the world.

“Are you cereal?” she rolls her eyes. Nathan helps slip her skirt on. “Really, Nathan what do you have to be sorry for?” She grins as she flattens her creased top. It hangs off the shoulder, his bite mark is wild, she drives him wild.  

“Unless it’s for passing notes in class?” she laughs.  _ Caught.  _

“It’s nothing!” He swipes at the post it, but she’s already unfolding it. 

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, Mr. Prescott.” He groans when she skims the contents of the message. He curses Vic, her curses her stupid gel pens, and most of all, he curses himself for being such a loser. 

“Eat me alive, huh?” Her laugh is butter and brown sugar it and fills the classroom. 

“Shut up,” he scowls. The zipper on his varsity jacket gets stuck and sticks him and she laughs even harder.

“Come here,” she carefully unzips the jacket. “That’s better,” her tone is quietly amused as she adjusts his shirt. Her fingers ghosted over his abdomen and Nathan bites his tongue to keep from swatting her hands away. 

His stomach is a frayed thread that’s been through the wash. He wants nothing more than to take a pair of scissors and snip it off, fuck the consequences. 

“Gotta go,” he whispers, taking a step back. 

“One minute,” she insists. Max tucks the stray hairs of his coiff back into place.

He’d give her eternity if he could.

But then the bell rings, and she pulls away as if she’s been burned. Miraculously, nobody swarms outside her door, not even the overachievers. It must be their lucky day.

“Max,” he mouths. “Max."

“It’s Ms. Caulfield, now,” she smiles, but it doesn’t count unless he can see her teeth. She gives herself a once over, her hair is loose down her back, obscuring patches of pale skin Nathan traced with his tongue only ten minutes earlier.

“Hn,” he grunts, laying his hand on the doorknob. The metal is cool but a bit sweaty, he takes his sweet time turning her handle.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

Neither does she.

* * *

 

Squeaking from rubber soles, obnoxious laughter, opening and slamming lockers, Nathan breathes in the high school experience.  _ Another day in hell. _

_ Click. _

“Hey, what the fuck?” 

Blinding white.

_ A phone camera,  _ Nathan realizes (a shitty one at that, who keeps their flash on?).

“I saw it,” Nathan hears first. He sees second: Warren Graham clutching his iPhone camera, big brown eyes wide as dinner plates.

“I can’t believe you’re having an affair with Ms. Caulfield.”

_ Fuck. _

 

* * *

 

 

I'm a patriarchal monster who wants nothing more than to masturbate to torture porn and relish the cries of beaten assaulted women. I'm a sick fuck who thinks domestic abuse victims, most always women, deserve to put up with abusive misogynistic men. I am a nonhuman who has never experienced abuse or hardship and I leer over the progressive masses like a biblical plague.

According to Tumblr, I am all these. I have been getting nothing but hate from people who tout themselves as "progressive people who fight for all rights". Telling me to go kill myself over a piece of fanfiction.

Fuck. Me. With a chainsaw.

I wish I could say that I am a resilient person. And that these things don't bother me. I'm an emotionally safeguarded person whose insults slide off my like glass. But I'm not. And these comments hurt.

But most of all, they convince that I have to write for Nathan.

Y'know I have nothing against Pricefield or thisfield or thatfield. Read lesbian fiction! Ship Pricefield! Ship whatever the heck you want, shout it from the mountain tops! But Jesus Christ, when shippers bash me for a fictional work of fiction, they kind of lose their argument.

I mean certain shippers (and I know they could be a vocal minority, I have many sweet, respectful Pricefield shippers) are telling me to kill myself because what I'm doing is unhealthy and terrible, but somehow attacking a REAL person who could be your mother, your father, your sibling, your barista, your doctor, your significant other is.

As harsh as this is going to sound, Nathan and Max and Chloe and literally everyone in LIS is not real. Take the last decision for example. If you chose to sacrifice Arcadia bay, it DOES NOT mean that you want to kill an entire town of innocent men, women, and children. Nor does it mean that the developers do, either. It's a work of fiction.

In contrast, I am a REAL HUMAN BEING. If you've noticed I don't disclose anything about myself. That's because I want to separate my life outside of fan fiction. I don't want those two to intermingle. So anyone is free to make assumptions about my gender and sexuality, but they're ultimately useless in an argument.

Do you want to call me a bitch? You know I could be a man, right?

Do you want to call me a dick? You know I could be a woman, right?

Do you want to call me a homophobe for not shipping Pricefield? You know I could be gay, right?

That's the point of internet anonymity. For all intents and purposes, I am just a writer. That's the end of it. If you want to call me anything else, that's totally ok, just please don't be disrespectful.

As for the commenters who have been kind and sweet? Thank you for your support.

THIS WAS NOT MEANT TO ATTACK ANY OF MY READERS OR RESPECTFUL PEOPLE. SHIP WHATEVER YOU WANT, AND DONT ATTACK PEOPLE FOR THEIR SHIP! Thank you.

 

Also check out the fic "Why Us?" by xrxy. The comment section involves me, another anti Caulfield writer, some wonderful allies, and it's a circus. Have fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is a dark story. The subject matter is unsuitable, and I DO NOT condone a student-teacher relationship in any shape or form. This is going to get dark, bring a flashlight, guys.
> 
> That being said, it's kind of a current trend to look down and scorn dark, messed up works. Now more than ever, I feel like? I mean Tumblr has a cancel culture where they basically "cancel" nonfeminist and racist authors (which in THIS day and age they should) but sometimes they go overboard and extend it to everything. 
> 
> Some people "canceled" Virginia Woolf and Ernest Hemingway. And y'know they definitely were sexist and racist, but I don't think you should censor their works either. I am very happy about how society is making strides in terms of feminism and dismantling institutionalized racism. But at the same time, it was (Past. Tense.) socially acceptable to be racist and sexist, in fact, it was heavily encouraged. 
> 
> Humanity has had a long and dark history and their art reflects that. If you don't want to read dark fiction then please don't force yourself. But don't harass other people for it either.
> 
> If you want an example of dark fiction why don't I suggest: White Oleander, Skippy Dies, Lolita, Fight Club, Tampa, Lord of the Flies, Gone Girl, The Lovely Bones. All of these are considered to be VERY highly regarded works of fiction; as they should be because dark themes (rape, pedophilia, child abuse, gore, rape) are as IMPORTANT to write about as comedy and romance. 
> 
> People read and enjoy dark fiction and have a healthy disassociation with real life. If someone does misinterpret a work of fiction and uses it as justification to harm someone (say someone read my piece where Nathan punched Warren and then assaulted someone in real life) than they are refusing to take personal responsibility for their own actions. Period.
> 
> Deep breath. Analysis.
> 
> Nathan is in a relationship with an older woman (I'm putting Max at about 25. Not because women over 25 aren't valid but because it was all the age gap I could stomach) and there is a clear power imbalance. Both stemming from Nathan's insecurity and Max's authority. Without giving away too much, I have a clear direction where this story is going to go, but this is taboo.
> 
> The condom stained with blood is an allusion to virginity. It sort of disarms Nathan because of its implications that he's "taking" something from Max. (I don't believe any old outdated concepts of virginity btw, this is for storytelling purposes). 
> 
> Nathan debates whether or not he wants to leave his stamp on Max. At one hand, the nature of their relationship is fleeting: he's a student, she's his teacher. And he has some anxieties, that he fucks up whatever he touches. On that other hand, he doesn't want it to seem like their relationship never happened. 
> 
> There is a constant power struggle. Nathan at the beginning sort of thinks that he's "rescuing Mac from the other students" only to "submit" to Max's authority during sex. She bosses him around for a while until Nathan decides to "take charge" and sort of dictate the sex. They chase their release mutually, and it's animalistic that way stripped of all pretenses including their status of teacher and student. Finally, she reads his note and sort of dotes over him in a teacher way.
> 
> They are not quite equals, and they may never be just because of the nature of their illicit relationship. And what's worse, they were caught by WARREN GRAHAM. As of right now, only Nathan knows that Warren is aware of their relationship. This does not forbode well for all three of them.
> 
> Well, that's all folks. PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, ANYTHING, EVEN A SMILE EMOJI MAKES MY DAY! THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT GUYS!


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